


Angel

by wwaterdragon (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Self-Harm, based off an rp and its shitty but just, chill okay, it's chill, it's like not even good medical shit that will go on because I don't know that but you know, read it okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 00:02:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7143872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/wwaterdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something unlikely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel

One. Not enough.  
Perhaps you could've stopped it all with just one cut, but no. You liked things in twos. If one broke, the other had to. Or else your eye would twitch and your skin would crawl, and your hands would shake, begging you to fix it. To make it two.  
You made the mistake of creating one cut, deep enough to let the disgusting piss color yellow deep from your wrist and down your arm and to the drain. And because there was one, you had to make one more. And suddenly, you realized that things felt just a little better that way. The pain triggers endorphins and you cut just maybe two more times in twos, making it six cuts total, that you end up flying on the chemicals.  
It feels amazing.  
The feeling of the blood trickling down your arms feels wonderful. You don't react much to the pain, only smiling to yourself as you know that you deserve this. That this pain at least replaces the empty feeling inside you.

It turns out that using your psionics with still healing wounds burns. It fucking burns, it hurts and makes your lungs scream and makes your body overheat, your head pound and your arms weak. The electricity that runs through your veins have burnt up your sensitive nerves, cut beautifully at your arms, and it hurts.  
The pain is overwhelming.  
And yet you welcome it.  
You begin to think that you're not really a troll anymore.

You don't even cry for help. You only lie on the floor, at the bottom of the stairs, covered in blood and feeling it pool below you. It's disgusting, you're disgusting, but it's fine. It'll all be over soon.  
You don't regret making the death slow.  
After all, you do deserve it.

 

But then you feel a nudge and it takes you time to open your eyes and focus. You see a figure. Black silhouette. An angel. Terrible, mythical creatures with awful feathery wings. Used to end worlds. And people.  
Maybe it's trying to bring you to your end?  
It kneels beside you, and you still can't make out its face, but it speaks with a soothing voice. “Hey,” is all it says. It pulls your head into its lap, and your eyes close once more as it inspects you. Strange. Shouldn't the angel just take you and you're back on your feet, somewhere, dead? Or maybe you just cease to exist? Maybe it's here to kill you?  
Instead it disappears from sight. When it comes back, you're not really there anymore, you're kid of just watching it. You hear something faint, nothing was really loud enough to hear over the weak blood in your ears. The blood that really needs to be drained.  
But it lifts your arms and you whine in discomfort. Please, don't touch there. You're ashamed, now that it actually has its cold hands on you. It wraps at your arms, and you're confused now. An angel wouldn't do this. Would they?  
Perhaps it's something else.

It knows your name.  
It knows your name and it carries you out of your hive and it's warm and it holds you like you're something precious, something important. It hurts.  
You can't make out who this is but it just brings you to a new place that gives you new sensations. It smells like salt and you hear loud thrashing. You're not really sure what it is, but you can't really care right now because it's still moving and taking you somewhere.

All you know is that you're dropped off in something smooth and now there is water pooling at your legs. It pries off at the makeshift bandages at your arms. You can somewhat hear it when it says, “This is gonna hurt.” And in its hands, you can tell it's something for your wounds.  
It's a troll. Not an angel. Damn.  
You only whine and refuse until it asks you what you want. You answer with, “Death.”  
You hear the distress in its voice but it goes on with the cleaning anyways. It holds your wrists gently to keep you from flinching away at the liquid pouring into your fresh cuts.  
You're probably crying for you lusus. Who's long gone but you'll still cry for him anyways. It hurts that much. (Actually, you think you're just babbling but it's fine, you're fine.)

It changes your clothes with some help from it, and when you make out the shape of its horns and the color around you, you realize it's someone you kind of didn't expect. Eridan.  
He takes you to this weird platform, settling you down on it and pulling a blanket over you. It's warm. You're tired.  
You're tired but things feel a little better? You're a little disappointed by that, but you can't really complain.  
You can, however, keep holding onto him until he stays. You tell him not to leave you. He replies with, “Never.”  
You're not sure what that means but he ends up wrapping his warm body around you anyways. It's sweet. Warm. Comforting.  
You fall asleep in a matter of seconds.

When you wake up, you're still in Eridan's arms. He holds you like you're the center of his world. Face tucked into your neck and curled up around you, arms secured around your chest and legs tangled up with yours.  
It scares the shit out of you.  
You're not even sure if he's awake and aware of doing this, and so you make a little noise and he loosens his hold on you.  
You have a little talk and you realize that he’s in love with you. He hasn't realized it yet, but he's in love and it's scaring you.  
You're only going to do this again. You're only going to try to die again and you're going to break his heart and with this newfound kindness in him, you realize that he's much more sweet and much more fragile that you thought.  
You don't want to hurt him anymore.  
You make yourself promise that you'd never hurt him again.

**Author's Note:**

> fuck me take this to make up for not updating anything


End file.
